


In My Time of Dying

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-12
Updated: 2009-07-26
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:36:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: When did it happen? When did Voldemort suddenly get so powerful? To where Dementors swallow the light, and screams can always be heard in the distance as Muggles are murdered?Before Harry and his friends, there was another story, another war. Four boys faced their greatest fears and found themselves.





	1. The Graduation Feast

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

 

**In My Time of Dying**

* * *

  


> Author's Note/Disclaimer:   
> _I know this is a really long story. It covers three years in a time of war (1978-1981), so it can only be expected. But before you run away screaming, please at least just read the first couple of chapters and give it a chance. There are a couple of things to note:_
> 
> _This is a CANON fiction. You won't find any focus on OC's here, nor much romance. This story is mostly going to follow James and Sirius, but Lily, Remus and Peter will obviously be here too. At the end of the day, I simply want this story to be a reliable account of what could have happened according to canon, and not some off-the-wall story about how Sirius fell in love with somebody who was killed and then she was never mentioned again, or anything similar._
> 
> _Much of the events that happen in this story are fabricated by myself, for we know very little of the first war and anything that went on beyond the deaths of certain people. Every battle fought, every mission for the Order, is a wild guess at best. Timing of some events are estimations._
> 
> _Please feel free to point out any errors you see. Your reviews are also very much appreciated._
> 
> _The story title is a song originally recorded (under that title) by Bob Dylan. The world, characters and canon events belong to J. K. Rowling. Everything else belongs to me._
> 
> __  
> 

* * *

 

 

**C H A P T E R . O N E**

It was a pleasurable day. 

Despite the fact that one terrible wizard had steadily grown more and more powerful over the last decade, days like this one made it easy to forget the troubles going on outside of the old castle’s walls, the walls being those of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One would think that in an era such as this, the days would always be dark and stormy, but they weren’t.

During the time that this one man, person, _thing_ known as Voldemort had been gaining followers and power, the weather had never been remarkable. All was normal in Great Britain - usually it was overcast and wet, it snowed in the winter and it shined in the summer.

Looking at this clear bright day in late June of 1978, nobody would ever suspect how it would suddenly darken so horribly. Very few (except for mostly those on the wrong side) would guess the hell that they were all about to be thrown into.

Hopefully, the population had enjoyed the pleasant weather. Very shortly, it would all change, and it wouldn’t be the same again for several years.

II.

The headmaster of the school had an inkling. Albus Dumbledore always had thoughts and inklings and ideas on all sorts of things. But it was he who had first recruited the boy (who grew to be Voldemort) to the school many, many years earlier. And it was he and only he who’d seen through the boy’s cunning, charming behaviour. Suspicious, he’d kept an eye on the dark Slytherin, and continued to do so, long after the child had left Hogwarts. When the villain calling himself Lord Voldemort emerged ten years ago, Dumbledore was one of the few to recognize him for who he _really_ was.

Dumbledore knew that something terrible loomed in the future. He did not, however, know that it would all begin today. Nevertheless, he felt it getting near, and as he stood in front of his students in the castle’s Great Hall, he felt the urge to warn them.

The gathering was small, consisting of just one of the seven different classes the school held. This was the Seventh Year class. This class had steadily dwindled over the years as parents pulled their children from the school and relocated to different countries to escape Voldemort’s threat. As a result of their losses, _this_ class had pulled together, had become a tight-knit group (aside from the Slytherins, who sat stubbornly in their corner). Dumbledore was sad to see _this_ class go; he sighed reluctantly.

The students were banging their fists and slapping their palms on the table, creating a thunderous sound as they cheered at his appearance. It was late in the afternoon - the seventh year class had been requested to skip lunch so as to attend a feast in their honor after the rest of the school had cleared the Great Hall. Dumbledore, who could appreciate a celebration (especially in darkening times such as these) allowed them to carry on for a few minutes.

When at last he raised his arms for silence, the students readily obliged.

His tone was soft when he first began to speak, but it captivated his small audience nonetheless.

“Tonight will be the last night you spend in your beds,”� said he. “Come morning, you will be on the train home for the last time. You have left your marks on Hogwarts School, certainly. And now you will begin to leave your marks upon the community.

“I daresay you are all aware of the dangerous world outside of these walls. But allow me to grant my wisdom upon you one last time. There is danger lying not only with Voldemort and his followers,”� Dumbledore said, and at the mention of the name several students visibly shuddered.

“The danger,”� continued the old man softly, “Lies within ourselves as well.

“It would be a terrible thing to lose ourselves in this dark world we face. We have lost so many, so _much_ , already.”�

A feeling of sadness stole across the Hall at his words. The students, so excited and proud moments before, were now serious as the weight of their futures pressed down upon them. Dumbledore smiled down at them; his eyes twinkled.

“You are part of the _greatest_ generation. You will be our history, and more importantly, you are our future. You will be the ones who make a difference, the ones to pull us out of the danger we face.

“The advice I wish to bestow upon you is this - never forget the dreams you had as children, when the stars were the limit. Never simply settle. Dark days lie ahead, and in times like these, there is nothing to lose except for yourselves. The only way to end these times is to give everything our all.”�

That was all he really wanted to say, and it was quite unremarkable. It was also the best advice he had ever given anybody. By now, he was so hungry his insides felt as if they were going to eat themselves, and he was reasonably positive that the students were feeling the same way (having skipped lunch). He quickly moved on and ended his speech.

“All of the staff here at Hogwarts wish you well, good luck and fortune down the roads you roam. We hope we served you well.”�

At that, the headmaster stepped forward and gave a humble bow to the people who, he hoped, would change the world. When he stood straight again, he had only one thing left to say.

“I now give you your graduation feast.”�

With a wave and flourish of his hand, the tables suddenly erupted in an incredible assortment of different foods. Nobody wanted for anything, and it seemed the house elves yearned for everyone to realize how much they'd miss such fantastic meals every day.

III.

Peter Pettigrew hungrily spooned a large serving of potatoes onto his plate. He looked at his friends, each of them proud and regal like kings, and tried for a moment to appear the same way. He replaced the spoon in the bowl much more calmly than his manner of picking it up. 

“I never thought we’d actually make it to graduation,”� he said brightly. This was the truth. The four boys had been a part of many severely dangerous situations during the last seven years at the castle. He had once wondered aloud how they weren’t dead yet. Best not to speculate, really, had been James’s response.

James Potter was the leader of their group and he was the one that Peter adored. James, the quidditch star. James, who held the attention of every girl in the school, James, who’s hair was ridiculous but who’s demeanor was always smooth. Peter thought that he could be like James; he always watched his friend carefully in the hopes of picking something up, always complimented his friend to remain on his good side. At the moment, James wasn’t eating and his plate remained empty; he was instead staring alertly over the heads of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, glaring at the Slytherins. He wondered what they thought of Dumbledore’s speech, as many of them were already rumored to be enlisted in Voldemort's service.

“It wasn’t easy,”� Remus pointed out, pushing a sausage around on his plate. It wasn’t for him, anyway, being a werewolf, although the company of his friends had made it much more bearable. But it had been tough all the same, trying to fit in studying and homework when he was lying ill and broken in the hospital wing.

“But it was bloody incredible,”� Peter said. He never, in a million years, thought he'd be a part of some of the things he'd done. He smiled wistfully.

“I had a fantastic time,”� piped up Lily Evans in agreement. She was blissfully ignorant of Remus’s ‘furry little problem’ (as James liked to say), and his sentiment had gone right over her head. She hadn’t spent much time with the four boys as a group - it was only in the last few months that she’d begun to join them, only when she’d begun dating James.

“You would,”� said Peter grudgingly. He wasn't fond of Lily always being around lately, speaking as if she knew anything of their bond over the last seven years, as if she was part of it. She wasn't.

James tore his eyes away from the Slytherins at the tone of Peter’s voice, which had caught his interest. This caused him to take notice of his and his best friend’s empty plates. They clashed terribly alongside the full plates of the rest of their party. He reached for a fancy platter of ham.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Padfoot?”� he asked the young man beside him.

Sirius Black had been lost in thought, staring blankly down at his plate. He had been pondering Dumbledore’s speech, particularly the bit about childhood dreams and the stars being the limit. He was disturbed to find that he hadn’t had any ambitions as a child, save for being everything his parents wanted him to be. James’s sudden, capable elbow digging into his ribs tore him from this state, and he glanced sideways at his friend. 

“Yes,”� he said quickly, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. James passed the ham.

Sirius was beautiful. (Peter thought he was a demon.) Girls went giddy just at the sight of him. Sirius had black hair that hung carelessly in his eyes and tickled his high cheekbones. His jaw was strong, his nose was quaint, and his brow cast dark shadows over brilliant bright grey eyes. He had a dark side that he kept hidden, but everyone could see it when he was brooding. He was reckless and unpredictable, but also elegant and easy to laugh. Sometimes he scared people, but they were curiously attracted to him nonetheless.

James was quite handsome himself, although it was more in a rugged, boyish way than Sirius. Remus was hopeless and charming; he was kind and thoughtful, and his looks were average but his dark brown eyes showed his soul. Peter was lumpy, and he hated it. Sometimes he wanted to leave this group and find friends that were more like him, where he wouldn’t feel inferior. But then, he knew it’d be stupid to leave a circle of friendship such as this one. He enjoyed knowing that many students in the school would love to be him, just to hang around with James all the time.

Peter worried, sometimes, that when they left Hogwarts for good, they would fall apart. He was certain that James and Sirius would always be the best of friends; James’s family had taken Sirius in when he ran away from home. Now they were not only best friends, but family. And both considered Remus’s condition to be the greatest of thrills, and so much of their lives had been invested into this already. But he, Peter, had nothing at all to give to the friendship. He felt he was kept around simply because James liked the attention. The thought sickened him.

“Still going to be an Auror after school, Prongs?”� asked Peter after a moment, slurping gravy from his spoon. He was prodding, searching for any hints that he would be a part of their future. “And you, Padfoot?”�

James’s tone was impatient. “Definitely, Wormtail, you _know_ it’s all I talk about.”� He didn’t offer any reassurance of Peter’s inclusion in the future; he didn’t know Peter was looking for it.

Sirius’s response was more careless; he pushed his black hair to the side, off his forehead and shrugged. “Apparently.”� He intended to work where James did, even if the job was the worst one in the world. James was his entire life, having lost his own family, and he had little motivation to part with his friend. He was, in fact, dreading leaving the school where he had a solid reason to see James every single day.

Peter smirked at him, suddenly annoyed. “ _Apparently_ , if they’ll take you, you mean,”� he blurted in a bratty tone, and he was almost surprised to hear the words spew from his mouth. He couldn’t help it - he was jealous of the relationship between Sirius and James. A small part of him hoped that the Ministry would turn Sirius down just to separate the two for a while. Peter thought it might do them both some good.

Sirius was quick to react. “What’s that supposed to mean, then?”� he demanded, glaring at his friend through smoldering grey eyes. He set his silverware back on the table and leaned forward challengingly, never even blinking as his gaze tore straight through Peter's soul. 

James, Lily and Remus had all stopped eating and were watching Peter carefully as well.

Peter stared defiantly at his plate as he spoke, unable to meet the challenging glare. “They’ll probably turn you away because you’re a Black,”� he replied logically, as if he hadn’t just insulted his friend. He steadily ignored Sirius’s ready-to-pounce demeanor, though he seemed to shrink a little in his seat. “Everyone knows your cousin and your brother follow _him_. Not to mention your in-laws...”�

Sirius immediately bristled at his words. “My father happens to be very influential in the Ministry,”� he spat at Peter, deciding to leave out the fact that this was largely due to his family’s name and donations. “It doesn’t seem to matter what Regulus and Bellatrix have done, does it?”� Despite his words, however, Sirius had a feeling his father might make it very difficult for him to get a Ministry job when the time came. He had shamed the family name, after all - his father certainly wouldn’t be doing him any favours.

“All right,”� announced James strongly, putting an end to the argument before Peter had a chance to respond. And then, to settle the matter, “Padfoot can do anything he wants to do.”� And he rested his arm across the back of Sirius's chair and gave his friend a wry smile. “Besides,”� he added. “Sirius is a Potter now.”�

Sirius shook the hair out of his eyes and took another drink from his glass, glaring at Peter over the rim. Peter blushed and kept his eyes down, blinking at the table. If only James would stick up for _him_ that way. He heaved a heavy sigh.

“Moony?”� pressed James expectantly. Clearly, he was trying to steer the conversation around again and away from the dangerous territory.

Remus looked up in surprise. He had gone back to eating during the bickering, and trying to ignore it - Sirius and Peter were always going at each other. “Er... I haven’t decided,”� he said quickly. His eyes flickered meaningfully towards Lily and back at James again.

“Shame, Remus. It's not like _you_ to be so irresponsible,”� said James with a grin at his friend. He enjoyed teasing Remus when Remus was unable to properly respond because of their company.

“Wanker,”� muttered Remus, returning his attention to his plate. His cheeks were slightly flushed.

James laughed. He turned his cheerful smile upon Lily, who took this as a prompt - her turn to answer the question that was going around the table.

“I’m going to be apprenticing for the Daily Prophet!”� she blurted, entirely proud of herself. It gave the impression that this was news she’d been holding in for a long while.

“Are you?”� asked Remus, raising his eyebrows. It _was_ quite an accomplishment, but he was extremely eager to move the conversation along and away from himself. “Congratulations!”�

Lily beamed at him and adjusted her long red hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Remus! I’m really excited!”�

The flash of a camera caught their attention from a neighboring table before Peter could discuss what he planned to do with his own life (not that he had anything really planned at the moment, aside from moving away from his mother). Still, he couldn’t hide the disappointed look that flashed across his face; nobody seemed to care enough about his future plans to ask or to steer the subject back around.

“Oh!”� Lily jumped slightly as if just remembering something and then dug around in her handbag. After a moment, she pulled out a camera of her own. “I almost forgot,”� she said with a smile, turning the machine on and taking off the lens cap. One of her fellow prefects sat across from her, behind Peter at the Ravenclaw table, and Lily called out to her. “Lucy, do you mind?”� and she held the camera out when the girl turned around.

“Okay,”� Lucy agreed cheerfully, standing up and reaching across the table for the camera. She held it up to her face. “Everyone smile!”�

James flung one arm each across Sirius’s and Lily’s shoulders and plastered a grin across his face. Peter and Remus both turned around to smile reluctantly at the camera. 

‘Cheese’ was an entirely childish thing to say, meant only to make people smile _naturally_ for a photo because of it’s randomness. Most people abandon the small ritual by the time they are teenagers. Sirius, however, was a person of habit.

“Cheese,”� he blurted unthinkingly just before the flash went off. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until everyone’s smiles widened despite themselves, and their faces distorted as they tried to fight the uncontrollable giggles that threatened to break their smooth, posed demeanors. 

Lucy was trying not to laugh herself as she lowered the camera and returned it to Lily. She winked at Sirius, who gave half a smirk in response, and sat back down at her own table to resume her meal and conversations.

“Thanks, Sirius,”� Lily teased sarcastically, trying to keep the smile off her face as she returned the camera to her bag. “That’s going to be the worst picture in history.”�

“Nah,”� responded Sirius carelessly, taking a deep swig from his goblet. He was certain that he, at least, would look good.

Lily insisted, “We’re all going to look like utter barmcakes!”� Her voice was riddled with chuckles and laughter as she reached for her own goblet, rolling her eyes. At least the photograph would be memorable, and that was all that mattered.

Sirius barked out a sudden laugh, causing several nearby girls to turn their heads and smile flirtatiously. It was over as suddenly as he let it out, and his voice was calm and composed when he addressed Lily. “But you’ll always remember it,”� he told her with a wink, almost as if he had read her thoughts. “And more importantly, me.”�

Everyone was silent for a moment as they realized that this, this was their last sure moment of all being together without a worry or care. This was goodbye. Of course they’d meet up all the time in the future, but that would require planning and checking schedules. It wouldn’t be the same as this one last afternoon, all Hogwarts graduates with no other commitments.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable for bringing this realization around, Sirius raised an eyebrow at Lily. “You're all barmcakes, anyway,”� he lamented just to lighten the mood.

James snorted. “Right,”� he said, and he opened his mouth to say something more, something snarky, when the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Immediately, several girls screamed in fear. James was on his feet in an instant, wand drawn, and Sirius was right behind him. Ground-shaking thunder sounded suddenly, both outside the castle and within the Hall, and a flicker of lightning briefly illuminated the room.

“Silence!”� commanded an important voice, the voice of Dumbledore. The enchanted candles floating above their heads were suddenly lit with a grand wave of Dumbledore’s hand, as were torches lining the windowed walls.

In the sudden flickering glow, everyone looked fearfully at each other. James and Sirius both slowly sank into their seats again, wary looks upon their faces and wands still clutched tightly in their hands. The seventh years quieted their voices to whispers, all of them waiting for something else to happen.

“Look at the sky!”� somebody suddenly shouted in awe.

And when they looked towards the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, it was to find it pitch black, murky with the darkest clouds any of them had ever seen. Another loud crack of thunder caused everyone to jump in fear. It began to rain heavily, but the droplets disappeared before reaching the floating candles. Lightning flashed once more.

“Bloody hell,”� said James slowly, lowering his eyebrows in concern as he stared upwards. “It’s only one o’clock in the afternoon!”� 

Yet it looked as if it were midnight. The bright rays of summer sunshine were gone - it was as if the sun had completely vanished.

“Listen,”� interrupted Remus suddenly, struggling to make himself heard to his friends over the panicking crowd. “Listen!”�

Perhaps his condition gave him heightened senses, for he seemed to hear something even over the frightened murmurs of other students. He stood suddenly and leapt agilely across the table to push open the window behind James and Sirius. Normally the Great Lake could be seen from the window, but at the moment the view was of suffocating blackness. Rain splattered on Remus’s face as he flung the window open and an icy breeze swept into the room, despite the fact that it was late June.

But then the rest of them heard it, too. James hurried to peer out the window as well. “Shut up!”� he shouted impatiently over his shoulder to his classmates, and all at once the room quieted as faces turned towards the breezy, dark window. People crossed the room and crowded behind the Gryffindors, all trying to get a view out and a better listen. Only the Slytherins remained in their seats, most of them looking quite smug at their classmates’ antics.

A demonic whispering entered the room, carried by the breeze; it was a supernatural, ominous sort of chanting. The students shuddered in horror and a feeling of despair came over them all. The windows suddenly iced over and the candles near the window were blown out by the wind.

“Dementors,”� voiced James. He swallowed, feeling sick with dread. “The Dementors are loose.”�

And everyone suddenly knew this to be true, though nobody wanted to admit it. The creatures themselves were nightmare enough, but their sudden freedom meant another victory for the most frightening wizard the world had ever known.

IV.

That night, none of the students in the castle slept. Gone was the earlier ecstacy over the end of exams and beginning of summer holidays. Instead, dormitories were filled with hushed whispers and anxious faces as teenagers relayed fears and suspicions to their friends. In the dead of the night, house common rooms were full as students sat around their fireplaces and stared solemnly at each other.

And when morning came and the Hogwarts Express arrived to bring everyone safely home, the skies were still dark, still full of whispers. The wintery chill remained in the air and nobody lingered outdoors.


	2. Job Interviews

  
**In My Time of Dying**

* * *

Disclaimer: _Story title is a song originally recorded by Bob Dylan. The world, characters and canon information in this story belong to J. K. Rowling. Everything else belongs to me._

* * *

**C H A P T E R . T W O**

Panic settled quickly over Britain, a never before seen phenomenon occurring before the citizens’ very eyes. Darkness had suddenly taken over the country, a heavy fog creeping through abandoned streets and the skies turning nearly black. Muggle street lights glowed dismally in the gloom. The few who ventured outdoors could hear demonic whispering all around them; it filled the air with a frightening horror; it filled the country with despair.

 

Owls swooped through the sky in abundance, carrying messages of concern and curiosity to and from loved ones. They seemed to be swallowed by the thick darkness, and sometimes they never even made it to their destination. Now and then, bloodcurdling screams could be heard in the distance, the frightened cries being the last sounds the unfortunate victims made. When found, they would remain forever unresponsive and barely alive.

 

The Muggles were in awe; they simply figured it was some sort of eclipse or terrible storm. They stayed indoors and didn’t ask questions; their theories seemed confirmed by the sporadic lightning and ground-shaking thunder. They couldn’t see the hellish creatures swooping freely through the skies, couldn’t see the slimy, scaley hands reaching towards them. They didn’t hear the screams of victims from the safety of their homes.

 

The magical population could see the monsters - witches and wizards all around the country spoke in hushed tones, not even having the heart to admit what they knew to be true. The battle had just begun, and already it seemed as if Voldemort would win.

 

 

II.

Level two of the Ministry of Magic held the Auror offices.

 

Bartemius Crouch, Sr sat in his office and pondered things. He stared out his window, which displayed a sunny, cheerful day (even though it hadn’t been sunny and cheerful in a week). The head of a department was usually given whatever type of view he or she preferred, and Crouch preferred one that could allow him to forget the current situation.

 

He watched a hot air balloon meander through the sky and forced himself to accept the horrible truth:

 

There was no forgetting Voldemort. It was impossible - reports came in every day from his Aurors. Attacks, deaths, failures. Aurors were quitting their jobs in fear, having never expected to face anything like this when they signed up. Some had been killed. Nobody new was coming in to join the force.

 

Nobody except for two people. He was expecting a couple of new Hogwarts graduates today - they had set up an interview days before. He liked Hogwarts. His own son had just completed his fifth year within the school, and was expecting to receive at least ten O.W.L.'s.

 

Crouch thought of his two future applicants and could see a glimmer of hope. One of them was James Potter, son of one of the best Aurors the Ministry had ever seen (now in retirement). He knew there was talent there, and hopefully a level head. 

 

The other... well, Bartemius tried not to think of the other boy. He’d rushed home and asked his son about Sirius Black when his secretary reported the appointments to him.

Barty Jr had assured him that Black was as different from his family as night from day. He’d been adopted by the Potters, after all. He wasn’t bad. He was a Gryffindor, of all things.

 

Bartemius found this sentiment hard to believe. He himself had a bit of Black blood in him. He knew how _they_ were. But Barty was telling the truth. Sirius Black _had_ been taken in by the Potters. Black _was_ , in fact, a Gryffindor. He thought he could accept that.

 

Besides - Bartemius Crouch was desperate.

 

 

III.

Outside, the rain thundered and rolled through London. It was dark and dreary, just as it should have been considering what loomed in the skies above them, unseen by Muggles. Lightning illuminated the dark purplish-black sky every few seconds, and sometimes in that brief moment a dark cloaked _thing_ could be seen fluttering about amongst the clouds.

 

The Dementors weren't openly attacking people yet (aside from a rare few who were unable to control themselves), but they were watching. And nobody ventured outdoors unless it was absolutely necessary. 

 

It was, unfortunately, necessary for James and Sirius. They had an appointment today, and as a security measure, the Ministry had removed itself from incoming calls from the Floo Network. The only available ways inside were the Muggle employee entrance, or the visitor entrance, both of which were outdoors.

 

James appeared with a pop in front of the Muggle entrance. He immediately lifted the newspaper in his hands to shield his head from rain. Sirius appeared a split second later, but he enjoyed dark, gloomy weather. He had come unarmed. Fog swirled around their ankles and seemed to absorb the rain before it hit the ground. In fact, it seemed to fade everything in the area, so that the only thing they could see was each other.

 

“This is rather terribly surreal, isn't it?”� Sirius observed, amused. These dark days were like nothing he'd ever seen before. He glanced around at the cloudy surroundings curiously, and then without warning he shook his shaggy hair back. Water droplets sprayed James’s face and trickled down his glasses, and he’d been extra careful about trying to stay dry.

 

He pursed his lips patiently. Sirius was the only person he knew who actually enjoyed the rain.

 

“You’re a right old lout,”� he observed after a moment, when he was forced to lower the newspaper long enough to wipe the water from his glasses. His hair was getting wet. He half-heartedly rumpled it.

 

Sirius grinned easily. “Maybe.”� He squinted through the fog and clouds, which literally covered everything. “This must be a little like what Heaven looks like, eh?”�

 

“Not really,”� grunted James, who was feeling indisputably wet and soggy.

 

Sirius surveyed the dark clouds and frightening sky. “No,”� he sighed. “I suppose not. Is that the entrance, then?”� He was indicating a short flight of stairs leading down to a public restroom.

 

James sighed. “Yes.”�

 

An amused look passed over Sirius’s face; James rolled his eyes, knowing what was coming. 

 

“Hundreds of Ministry employees line up here to go in to work every morning?”� Sirius clarified with James. He had never used the Muggle entrance when he’d been here as a child. The Black family was above such things.

 

He hadn’t been to the Ministry but a couple times, anyway. He could remember throwing dozens of galleons into the fountain with Regulus once when they were young, while his father chatted with people nearby and his mother looked on haughtily. It was a treat back then, a rare moment of fun, but now that he was older, he could see that it was all a show - the Black family, even their very young sons contributing gold to the Ministry. Throwing money away as if it were nothing. Sirius’s eyes narrowed inadvertently.

 

“Mmhmm...”� lamented James glumly. And then, before Sirius had a chance to ask (James knew he would), he added, “They have to flush themselves down the toilets.”�

 

Sirius immediately forgot about whatever memory he was thinking of involving his family.

 

His gleeful laugh was like a bark, and it made James grin in spite of himself. “Do the Muggles know we do this to their loos, then?”� he asked cheerfully. “Hi, how's it going?”� he added with a friendly wave as he spotted a passerby carrying an umbrella and eying him curiously through the fog. It was ominous looking, random people appearing from seemingly nowhere, and after walking past, being sucked right into the fog again. 

 

James rolled his eyes once more and readjusted his soggy newspaper. 

 

“ _I_ think it’s a load of shit,”� Sirius continued brightly, turning back to James as if he hadn’t interrupted himself. Miraculously, he managed to keep a straight face as he spoke. “ _That’s_ what I think.”�

 

James, desperately fighting a laugh, grabbed his arm and quickly dragged him into an alley. “You’re scaring people,”� he said stiffly. He couldn’t even look Sirius in the eye, or he knew he’d lose it. “We’re here for business, remember,”� he schooled his friend.

 

“Right,”� mourned Sirius helpfully, his face turning morbid. They were silent for a few minutes as they walked past old rubbish bins and emergency staircases. 

 

James was quite uncomfortable in his black business robes, and he pulled on his tie in annoyance. It wasn’t _him._ He was athletic and playful, and preferred jeans and a shirt, or else just his plain school robes. He glanced sideways at Sirius. At least _he_ seemed at ease. Sirius was used to dressing nice. He liked to wear black.

 

James cleared his throat. “We’re taking the visitor entrance, anyway,”� he told Sirius, as they continued further down the alley. “The only way to get in the Muggle entrance is with a Ministry approved token. For security, you know. Only employees get them.”�

 

“Ah,”� said Sirius, trying not to laugh. Secretly, he was desperately glad that they wouldn’t be taking that route.

 

At the end of the alley, they crammed themselves into a telephone box. Sirius was glad that James seemed to know what was going on, at least, because he was absolutely clueless. However, in an effort to appear confident, he took out his wand and busied himself with siphoning the rain water off of their robes. James picked up the telephone and hit a bunch of random numbers that Sirius didn’t quite catch.

 

 

IV.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in two very uncomfortable chairs in a reception area for the Auror department. A secretary chomped loudly on a stick of Drooble’s gum. Sirius was slouching in his chair, leaning his head lazily against the wall behind him. His eyes were closed. Beside him, James eyed the secretary in disgust and pondered what Lily was doing at her new internship.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, footsteps could be heard approaching them from beyond a door behind the secretary's desk. A commanding voice issued orders to various people as he passed them. James sat up a little straighter and pounded his fist against Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius opened his eyes and sat up straighter as well.

 

The door to the offices finally opened. A well groomed man with a very straight mustache stood holding it open expectantly. Sirius and James immediately got to their feet.

 

“Mr Potter,”� said the man, holding his hand out for a handshake. “You look just like your father,”� he mused pleasantly. “And Mr Black,”� he added, holding his hand towards Sirius. He wouldn’t look Sirius in the eye, and seemed on edge slightly (especially when Sirius purposely squeezed his hand especially hard, just as James's father had taught him to do in order to show confidence).

 

The man scowled and cleared his throat. James turned to his friend.

 

“Really, Pads,”� he murmured under his breath.

 

“Sorry,”� said Sirius. He let go. The man nervously wiped his sweaty palm against his robes.

 

Sirius shrugged innocently at James. It wasn’t _his_ fault people reacted badly to his last name. All he could do was enjoy their reactions or let it eat away at him. Usually it was a bit of both.

 

(Although, at the moment, he was in a mild panic over what Peter had said last week. Perhaps he _would_ be declined work after all, if the department head was afraid of him.

 

He thought it would be pants if James was hired, and he wasn't, and he wondered how he would fill his days until James got home. Even worse, he realized that, once home, James would probably want to see Lily as well.)

 

“Okay, then,”� said the man testily, relieved to be freed of the grasp. “Please follow me to my office.”� He turned and lead them out of the reception area and through a maze of cubicles. James and Sirius followed wordlessly, ducking a couple of owls carrying memos to other departments. 

 

At last they reached a large, comfortable looking office. Moving photographs of the mustached man and his family sat on a desk and on the bookshelves behind. Despite the storming weather outside, the office window boasted sunshine and a few pleasant, fluffy clouds. James and Sirius took seats in the chairs facing the desk; the man sat in the fancy leather armchair behind it. All three stared at each other expectantly before the man finally spoke.

 

“My name is Bartemius Crouch,”� he introduced himself, picking up a quill. He looked them each over as if they were prey before continuing. “I have to admit, I’m very pleased with your interest to become Aurors. We’ve been experiencing a shortage, considering all that has been happening with... er... with You-Know-Who. Your father’s retirement five years ago, James, was an exceptionally hard pill to swallow. It’s almost to the point where I fear we may have to start drafting...”�

 

James nodded once, immediately relaxing at the news that the Ministry was getting desperate. They would probably be guaranteed work. He sat up straighter, confidently, as he addressed Crouch. 

 

“That’s why we’re here, sir. We’d like to help out and fight back and take Voldemort down! My father told us, ‘you’ve got to stand for something or you’ll fall for anything.’”�

 

Bartemius Crouch gave a choking gasp at the name and his eyes bulged slightly, but he covered it with a chuckle and a blink; he gave a small nod. “Your father was a very wise man. Let’s see if we can get a hold of your test scores.”� His eyes flickered between the two handsome young men and he gave a simpering smile before lifting the lid from a delicate looking jar on the desk. Clearly, he didn’t think they appeared capable of the positions no matter how desperate the Ministry was. He took a handful of Floo powder, turned in his chair and tossed it into his personal fireplace. 

 

“Glenda?”� he called as green flames roared to life.

 

After a brief second, the secretary’s head appeared in the flames. “Yes, Mr Crouch?”�

 

“Be a dear and fetch the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. records of these boys,”� Bartemius demanded importantly. He straightened his robes and tightened his tie as he waited for her to grab a piece of parchment and a quill to take their names.

 

“Go on,”� she informed him after a moment, smiling sweetly.

 

“James Potter, and Sirius Black. _Sirius,_ like the star, that.”�

 

“I’ll have those in just a moment, Mr Crouch,”� cooed the secretary in a sickeningly sugary voice.

 

While they waited, James cast around for some way to break the nervous silence. “Mr Crouch,”� he began after a moment, leaning forward in his chair. “I thought the Ministry had been removed from the Floo Network?”�

 

Mr Crouch jumped slightly at the sudden question, taken by surprise. “Oh, only partially, James,”� he said pleasantly. “Nobody can Floo here, though we do allow our employees to Floo home again. We still use the Floo to exchange information _within_ the Ministry, however.”� He smiled at James. “Excellent question, James, I like a man that pays attention.”� And then the smile immediately slipped from his face, making it evident he was only being polite.

 

James frowned to stop himself from smiling, and when the secretary reappeared in the fireplace a moment later distracting Crouch, he shrugged at Sirius, who smirked back at him. 

 

_Suck-up,_ Sirius mouthed wryly.

 

James raised an eyebrow in amusement. _Bastard,_ he mouthed indignantly in return.

 

“All right, then,”� said Bartemius Crouch, turning back to his desk. He now held two manila folders in his hands and he opened them one beside the other, peering over the papers within. “Very impressive, boys, I must say,”� he noted, sounding surprised. A smile crept over his face as he looked up at the two new prospective employees.

 

Both James and Sirius looked pleased with themselves at this. N.E.W.T. scores hadn't been mailed out to the former students yet, but apparently they'd both done well. Things were definitely looking good; they were positive they’d be fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters by Christmas, once all the training was done.

 

Crouch closed the folders and stacked them neatly on top of each other. Then he folded his hands together and, still smiling, looked from James to Sirius. “I hereby accept your applications into the Auror department of the Ministry of Magic. Congratulations, boys. From here you will proceed to our conference rooms for your written psychological exam, and, assuming all goes smoothly with that, you’ll be sent to St. Mungo’s for physicals. Ministry-paid, of course.”�

 

All three of the wizards stood up, James and Sirius barely listening as he reeled off their next steps in becoming Aurors. They were simply pleased to be accepted and have work - work that would help in the war, no less. This job had been James's dream for as long as he could remember, and he felt like he was walking on air as Crouch droned on. The latter man was just in the process of reaching across his desk to shake hands with his newest recruits when one of his Aurors walked into the office.

 

“Oh,”� said the thin young man instantly, blushing as he glanced at James and Sirius. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company,”� he muttered, backing out of the office again and pulling the door closed behind him. Sirius thought he looked like a git, and in his own mind, James quite agreed.

 

“No, no, it’s all right, Judas,”� replied Mr Crouch smoothly. “We were just finishing up. This is Sirius Black and James Potter; they’ve just been accepted into our Auror program.”�

 

The man entered the room again at Crouch’s reassurance, offering a small, reluctant smile to Sirius and James. “Welcome to the program,”� he said, looking wary.

 

“Judas Christopherus is one of our hit wizards,”� Mr Crouch informed the boys, who nodded politely despite their thoughts. “What is it, Judas?”�

 

“Sir, we’ve got a problem. One of your other _new recruits,_ ”� he paused and glanced at Sirius and James accusingly as he said this, “took your permission to use Unforgivables for apprehension purposes a bit too far. He has just performed the Killing Curse on an uncooperative suspect. It’s causing an uproar; I fear the victim may have been innocent...”� He trailed off, glancing at James and Sirius once more. James looked on, his eyes slowly beginning to narrow.

 

Mr Crouch collapsed into his chair, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “More work...”� he muttered, shoving Sirius and James’s records off to the side and searching through a different pile of paperwork. 

 

“Hang on,”� said James flatly, interrupting. The hit wizard looked nervously at James; Mr Crouch glanced up, looking suddenly stressed. James looked between the two of them for a moment before he demanded, “You’re allowing your employees to use the Unforgivables?”�

 

Bartemius Crouch laughed nervously. “Well, not normally, Mr Potter, but given the current circumstances...”� He held his hand out helplessly, indicating all the work, thus, the troubled times. He looked up at James as if he were insane for even asking. “Is that a problem?”�

 

James fumed silently for a moment. Then, in a low voice, he said, “I’m sorry, but we’re no longer interested in these positions. Thank you for your time.”� He glanced at Sirius and motioned for him to follow, and Sirius obediently did. The two men in the office seemed momentarily gobsmacked, but Mr Crouch recovered just as they were closing his office door behind them.

 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,”� he grumbled, going back to his paperwork and muttering about a ‘waste of time.'

 

 

V.

“It’s an outrage,”� James stormed as they stalked through the cavernous Atrium; it was nearly empty now, as everyone was in their offices, and their steps made loud echoes against the wood floor. He glared angrily at the decorative Fountain of Magical Brethren as he passed. “If they’re using Unforgivables on people they suspect, then how are they any better than the Dark ones? Hell, they’re probably responsible for half of Voldemort’s followers at this point! Once you start using Dark magic, Sirius, it’s hard to go back...”�

 

“Relax,”� commanded Sirius calmly, reaching for an open jar of Floo Powder atop one of the fireplace mantles. He was thankful Crouch had told them they could Floo home, at least - he wasn’t keen on Apparition. He offered the jar to James.

 

James’s jaw muscles twitched as he clenched his teeth together angrily. “Fuck it,”� he announced, grabbing a handful of powder. “Remember that summer you ran away from home?”� Sirius’s eyes immediately darkened and James took that to be a definite yes. “Remember when Dumbledore showed up to ask my dad for help with his ‘secret Order’ to fight Voldemort?”�

 

“Vaguely...”� murmured Sirius warily, remembering the evening well. He and James had spent a splendid, thrilling night hovering around the doorway underneath the invisibility cloak, curious and anxious to hear anything possible about Voldemort and how he would be taken down. He glanced sideways at James, waiting for whatever horrid idea was sure to come.

 

“I’m not going to fall so low as to use Unforgivables, and I’m not going to work for a Ministry that does it either,”� James snarled energetically, pointing a finger in Sirius’s chest and causing a small flurry of Floo powder to fall to the ground. “I’m going to Dumbledore. I’m going to see about getting into the Order instead.”�

 

Sirius blew his breath out slowly, eyeing his worked up friend. “Whatever you say, Prongs, I’ll do it too.”� It wasn't as if he had anything better to do, or even anything to lose, except for James himself.

 

James smiled dismally at him and clapped him on the shoulder, calming down at Sirius’s reassurance. “What are you doing tonight? Anything? You should come over for dinner, Pads, my parents would love to have you. They’ve missed you since you moved out last summer.”�

 

Sirius grinned warmly at him. “I’d like that very much,”� he said sincerely; he desperately missed the family life that he'd experienced during the year he lived with the Potters. The two threw the Floo powder into the cold fireplace and announced, _Godric’s Hollow!_


	3. A Night Out

  
**In My Time of Dying**

* * *

Disclaimer: _Story title is a song originally recorded by Bob Dylan. The world, characters and canon information in this story belong to J. K. Rowling. Everything else belongs to me._

* * *

**C H A P T E R . T H R E E**

It was one o’clock in the morning and the entire house was completely silent. Only one person sat awake at the desk in his bedroom, impatiently tapping a pencil against the wooden surface as he eyed his watch. Sirius had fallen asleep on the sitting room couch before James ever even went to his room, but he wasn't sure if his parents were sleeping yet as well.

 

When he could wait no longer James heaved a sigh and crossed the room, opened his bedroom door slightly with a small creak and peered into the dark hallway. He often left the house at night - he was of age now, after all - but he certainly didn’t want his elderly parents to know. They were slightly old fashioned, and with the steadily declining state of the wizarding world, they were becoming increasingly paranoid and overprotective. He knew they would worry.

 

After making sure that all was dark and silent within the house, he slipped out of his room and stealthed down the hallway, taking care not to step on any of the creaky floorboards. Once he cautiously descended the stairs, he pulled his cloak and a broomstick from a closet in the foyer. He could see Sirius passed out on the couch in the sitting room from where he stood and eyed his friend, trying to make no noise at all as he pulled the cloak over his shoulders. 

 

Nevertheless, Sirius startled awake as James softly shut the closet door. He sat up quickly; within a split second, he had his wand pointed towards the foyer where James stood. 

 

“Who’s there,”� he demanded forcefully in the dark. It was then that, for the first time, James realized that it wasn’t just his parents who were becoming increasingly paranoid.

 

James sighed in remorse at this thought as he flipped his collar and shrugged his shoulders a few times to get the cloak to fit comfortably. 

 

“Shh... It’s just me,”� he replied softly. “Just James.”� He stepped into the doorway where Sirius could see him to prove it.

 

“Oh,”� Sirius sighed, relief evident in his voice. He flopped backwards onto the couch again, rubbed his face tiredly, and peered at the grandfather clock; it took a second for the time to register. After a pause, in which he sat up again faster than lightning, “It’s arse o-clock in the morning!”� he told James in dismay. “Just where do you think you’re running off to?”�

 

“Shh,”� replied James again, stepping into the room and peering over his shoulder. All he needed was to wake his parents; then the whole family would be interrogating him at this hour. “I’m going to see Lily. Just go back to sleep.”�

 

For a moment, Sirius simply stared at him in the dark; it was stupid to sneak around outside alone, especially at this hour. While he was always one to appreciate the thrill of danger, even he had to give an involuntary shudder at the thought of Dementors and Death Eaters and darkness and being alone out there. 

 

“You’re off your chump...”� he finally muttered in annoyance, shifting onto his side. Brooding, he placed his wand on the tea table in front of the couch.

 

“I know,”� James whispered soothingly, agreeing just to pacify his friend. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I do it every night. I’ll see you in the morning.”�

 

Sirius heaved a sigh as he settled into the cushions again. He wasn’t happy about it; in fact, he would have kicked James’s arse days ago if he had been aware his friend snuck out at night. Yet, if it was already a habit for James, he knew James couldn’t be persuaded to stop. At least not on this night. 

 

“Jus’ be careful, Prongs, you sodding idiot,”� he growled unhappily. He added, his words slurring as sleep began to claim him once more, “Tell Lily hallo for me.”� 

 

(The remainder of the night would pester him with nightmares as he worried subconsciously, but he wasn’t aware of this as he drifted to sleep again.)

 

James regretfully nodded to himself, perhaps understanding and reluctantly accepting new realizations; he picked up his broomstick and turned to leave. Just be careful. He hated it that he couldn’t even sneak out of the house at night to see his girlfriend, to do normal teenage boy things, without endangering his life because of Voldemort. He hated it that Sirius woke at the smallest noise, prepared to be attacked at any second. That he had to hide his outings from his parents because they were too afraid to ever let him go out at night by himself for a simple date.

 

He took extra care to lock the house up again after he’d let himself outside. As he turned away from the front door and surveyed the dainty neighbourhood in Godric’s Hollow, he couldn’t help but give an involuntary shudder. The Darkness hadn't let up at all in the past week; a misty fog swirled around trees and in between houses. James shook his head slightly in disgust and gripped the broomstick tighter; he thought he heard a whisper over his shoulder, and something icy brushed against his ear, but when he turned there was nothing but darkness. His eyes lingered in the suffocating blackness to be sure; he was definitely glad to have his Apparition license, and with that last thought, he turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.

 

When he appeared again, he wasn’t in Godric’s Hollow anymore. He was in the small town of Cradley Heath, in front of a quaint, quiet house. He gripped his broomstick tighter and glanced behind him to be sure no Muggles were around, although he knew somebody would have to be mad to be outside right then. Mad like him. He felt almost as if he were underwater; the darkness was so overwhelming and thick that it flooded the streets. James shook his head, ignored the chilly, haunting whispers, and slung his leg over the broom. He took a moment to scrub his hands through his hair before taking off for one of the second story windows.

 

Lily Evans rolled over in her bed and peered at the window as he pushed it open. She sat up all at once, an explosion of blankets and flying limbs and a flash of red hair. 

 

“James!”� she breathed, scooting neatly off the bed and hurrying to the window to help him step through. “You’re a good bit late tonight! I certainly was starting to worry!”�

 

Once inside, James stood up straight, leaned the broomstick against her wall, and turned to close the window firmly. 

 

“Yeah, I'm sorry,”� he whispered when he was done. He turned and placed his hands on her hips, his lips brushing lightly across her forehead and leaving a pleasant trail that sent a shiver up her spine. “Sirius went home with me for dinner and ended up spending the night. Needless to say, everyone stayed up a little later than usual. I couldn’t get away...”�

 

He trailed away as she suddenly, swiftly pressed her lips to his, almost unable to control herself. The temperature contrast between them was breathtaking - her lips were warm and inviting, and his were cool, having just come from outside. James closed his eyes and kissed her slowly, enjoying the moment, and then in a sudden, graceful movement he dragged her towards her bed where they collapsed on it in a heap.

 

Their lips smashed together again at the impact.

 

(It wasn't a surprise, considering how teasingly close their faces had been, anyway.) 

 

The kiss didn't last long. Lily rolled off of James, trying hard not to laugh carelessly and wake her parents up in the next room. She allowed a rogue giggle to escape, and as James looked over in amusement at her face, a slow grin steadily stole across his own as he eyed her in wonder until he had to chuckle as well. This, of course, threw her into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

 

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at,”� he told her after a second, his grin growing wider the longer he watched her. She really was something else, or at least he thought so. He was lying on his back horizontally across her bed. She was curled up on her pillows, but at his teasing, sat up in a more serious position.

 

Lily cleared her throat and forced the smile from her face. She had to hug a pillow to her chest for something other than his silly expression to concentrate on. 

 

“Okay, okay. I’m done, then,”� she forced out in a wobbly voice, determinedly avoiding his gaze. 

 

James, still grinning, lifted an eyebrow and continued to watch her, waiting. Her face was of such concentrated seriousness that he found it both adorable and completely hopeless at the same time - he knew she couldn't keep it up. Indeed, she dared to meet his gaze and the corners of her mouth immediately curled upwards.

 

“Stop, now you’re just _trying_ to make me laugh,”� she announced, slapping his shoulder playfully.

 

“You know you like it,”� insisted James, but he wiped the silly grin off his face and rolled onto his side to face her, propping himself with his elbow. He opened his mouth to say more - he loved teasing her and driving her mad, after all - but she interrupted suddenly, and he had half a mind to think she only changed the subject to spare herself.

 

“Right. So how did your interview at the Ministry go? Did you pass the tests and everything?”� Lily’s eyes shined proudly as she watched her boyfriend’s face; he was going after his dreams, and that was more important than anything else. He was going to be an Auror, and even though that scared her, she was positive he would be great. 

 

The side of James’s mouth pulled upwards in a disappointed smirk. He picked at a fray in the blanket as he answered reluctantly, “Well, we passed the interview portion. The Head Auror was really impressed with our test scores and everything. He was thrilled to have us, really. Said they’d been having problems keeping people... Some left, I guess. Some have probably been killed...”�

 

He trailed away and sighed, and the smile immediately slipped from Lily’s face. Her eyebrows lowered in concern and her green eyes studied him searchingly. 

 

“But?”� she prompted, worried.

 

“But... Just as he was sending us for the written exam, one of their Hit Wizards came into the room. Seems one of their employees used the Killing Curse on somebody. Somebody that was innocent.”� James frowned and continued to pick at the blanket, absently twisting a small thread between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“Oh, James,”� said Lily compassionately. She knew James hated the Dark Arts; it was the whole reason he wanted to be an Auror in the first place. She could still remember him telling her with pride in seventh year how he would fight in the war for the rights of Muggleborns like her. It would be a hard blow to learn his heroes used Dark magic themselves. She reached over and placed a comforting hand on the side of his face.

 

He sighed. “So I told them we weren’t interested in the positions anymore, and we left. And... that’s that, I suppose.”� He vaguely waved his hand as if dismissing it all.

 

All his dreams, all his hard work, amounted to nothing. Despite this, he smiled as he remembered his best friend's words of consolation hours before: _At least we won't have to flush ourselves down toilets, Prongs._ They had decided not to tell James’s parents about what happened, at least not until they had a definite in with Dumbledore’s Order. James knew his parents would never allow him to join if they suspected he was trying to.

 

Lily was quiet for a few minutes, playing with a tuft of his hair, until she eventually broke the silence with, “What are you and Sirius going to do now?”�

 

James shook his head, his eyebrows flying towards his hairline as he took a deep breath. “I was going to talk to Dumbledore,”� he finally admitted, avoiding her searching look because he didn’t think she’d be fond of this idea once she knew what it was.

 

“You want to be a teacher!”� Lily’s hand flew off his face and to her own mouth in astonishment.

 

James laughed and rolled onto his back again, stretching. The idea was ludicrous. 

 

“No, no... No way,”� he assured her, chuckling as he stared at the ceiling. “No... that’s- what you just said, Lily? That was horrible.”�

 

She laughed, too, at that point. 

 

“Actually, Dumbledore’s been fighting Voldemort. On his own, I mean... apart from the Ministry. It’s why he wasn’t at school as much the last couple years. He came over one night to talk to my dad about it. Some organization he created to attack Voldemort’s supporters with sudden assaults...”� he quoted exact words that he could recall hearing during his eavesdropping, and trailed away, looking over for her reaction. 

 

Lily, who wasn’t keen on hidden organizations, secret things, and breaking the law, made a face at this bit of information.

 

“You never mentioned it before,”� she told him doubtfully, in the hopes that it was only a theory as to why Dumbledore was always absent at school. 

 

James shrugged and gave her a sheepish smile. 

 

“I wasn’t supposed to know about it,”� he admitted, and he sat up suddenly as determination came over him. She had to understand this; he loved her, but he wouldn’t let her talk him out of it. “I’m going to fight this, Lily, and I’m not going to use the Unforgivables to do it, and I’m not going to support a Ministry that does, either. If it means working undercover with Dumbledore for no pay...”� He shrugged again to indicate that money wasn’t a big deal to him.

 

When he glanced up for her reaction again, her expression was one of surprise. She looked stunned and at the same time worried; however, she kept her mouth shut. She was holding a hand to her chest as if aghast that he would speak to her so forcefully. She did at least seem to understand that this was something that he was passionate about; she forced a small smile when she caught him eyeing her.

 

“Right. Anyway,”� he grunted, feeling suddenly guilty. He crawled to the head of the bed where she sat and flopped onto the pillows so that they were facing each other. He wrapped his arm around her and fingered her red hair behind her back. “What did you do today?”�

 

Recovering quickly, Lily smiled at him again and settled onto the pillows facing him. “Well, we won’t have to do _this_ anymore,”� she stated happily, indicating the window and his broomstick.

 

James frowned at her in mock pain. “If you didn’t want to see me anymore, Lily, you should have just said something earlier,”� he joked, and then he heaved a depressed sigh that was so convincing, Lily was almost saddened by it.

 

She smiled warmly at him until he couldn’t help but smile back. “Don’t be ridiculous,”� she said softly. “I got an owl from Lucy today. She’s found a flat in London that she can’t quite afford on her own. She wanted to know if I wanted to be her roommate.”�

 

James narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “Oh? And just _who_ is Lucy?”� he demanded to know, overprotective nature kicking in.

 

“You remember Lucy, James... _Honestly._ Did you never pay attention? The Ravenclaw Prefect? She took our photograph, remember?”� With that, Lily rolled over and pulled open the drawer on her night stand. She removed a small photo album and flipped through the pages. “Look,”� she said, indicating a colourful photograph.

 

The five of them - his three Marauders, Lily, and himself - sat crowded around the Gryffindor table, all smiling widely. Except for Sirius, who looked as laid back as ever. James grinned fondly at the picture, remembering the warm, pleasant evening with his friends. He tried not to think about what happened after the photograph was taken. 

 

“I remember. You were right that night, you know. We _do_ look like barmcakes,”� he said nostalgically. On second thought, “Well. Pads doesn't. He says hi, by the way.”� 

 

“Mmm,”� said Lily, watching as James began to flip through the rest of the pictures. 

 

Most of them made him smile. Lily would occasionally point to one and burst out ‘oooh, remember that?’ and then they’d share some story about it. There was one photo of Lily with the other Gryffindor girls (most of whom were in the year above her, as there was only one other female in her own year); she immediately began to explain the picture's fun circumstances but James quieted her, admitting that he’d been there, too, spying under his invisibility cloak. She blushed and so did he, and to change the subject, James smirked at her as he held up a photo of Severus Snape in disgust.

 

Lily blushed even deeper. “Come off it, James... I was friends with him for years. Far before I knew I was a witch.”� She plucked the picture from his fingers and carefully returned it to its place in the book. Then she smiled wistfully. “Tuney hated him, too, you know.”�

 

“Bloody hell, I feel absolutely _faint_ at that bit of _shocking_ news, Lily. Who'd have pegged Petunia for a wizard hater?”� He shook his head in mock surprise. “And as for Snape, hell. I thought _everyone_ loved _him..._ Miserable bat...”�

 

“Sod off, James, really.”� 

 

He sighed, rolled onto his back and placed his hands behind his head, staring up at her ceiling. She lovingly returned her photo album to its drawer and then rested her head on his chest. He glanced down at her now, while she was staring thoughtfully across the room; the moonlight streaming through the window illuminated her skin and she appeared to shine.

 

Sirius and Peter had never found Lily to be anything more than average looking, and though Remus would never be rude enough to say it, James knew he agreed. _She's pretty enough, Prongs,_ Sirius used to say, shrugging carelessly in the common room. _But nothing fascinating._

 

(He had then gone on to suggest a handful of other girls that he knew would have given anything to be with James.

 

James would allow him to carry on a bit, because he loved hearing how long that list really was.)

 

This was the one and only thing that he and Sirius disagreed on. He wasn't sure how his best friend could be so blind; he'd never laid eyes on a woman that was prettier than Lily Evans. He yearned to touch the soft, milky skin of her face now, but he was afraid to ruin the moment, afraid to frighten her. He settled instead for pulling an arm down to wrap protectively around her shoulders and draw her nearer to him. She sighed contentedly as he did this and, after a blissful moment, she spoke.

 

“Do you think it’s going to end anytime soon?”� she asked him, her voice sounding far away. She felt safe here, in her childhood bedroom with James, at least; it was almost hard to believe in the horrors that were happening in Britain even as they lay.

 

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. Unfortunately, he felt the war was only getting started. Voldemort had really only stepped out in the last two years. 

 

“Yes,”� he said firmly, lying through his teeth and hoping she couldn't tell. He trailed his fingers softly, reassuringly, along her arm as he stared up at the ceiling. She smiled now, he could feel her cheek pressing against his chest as she did so.

 

Sometimes life's okay.

 

“Good.”� 

 

It didn’t take long for them to drift to sleep in each other’s arms, nestled beneath the innocent pink blankets of Lily’s childhood. 

 

 

II.

When James opened the door to the Potter home early in the morning, it was to find Sirius already up. His friend sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, pouring over _The Daily Prophet_ , a glass of orange juice in his hand and a plate of toast on the side. Sirius spared James a glance, lifting his eyebrows inquiringly. Darkness streaked beneath his eyes and his face was gaunt; still, he grinned sarcastically at James’s appearance.

 

“Good night?”� he pressed knowingly.

 

“The best,”� James lied, helping himself to orange juice and sitting on the stool beside Sirius’s. It wasn’t a bad night, but the conversations he’d had with Lily weren’t exactly uplifting. He took a large swallow from his glass and nodded towards the paper in Sirius’s hand. “Any news?”�

 

“‘course there’s news,”� replied Sirius flatly. He folded the paper in annoyance, though his attitude wasn’t directed at James, and shoved it away. “There’s always news.”� He hated reading the paper at all these days, but he had to know, had to check that it wasn’t somebody he cared about that had been found dead overnight. He concentrated on his toast, taking a vicious bite.

 

James studied Sirius’s profile for a moment and then nodded slowly, understanding Sirius's harsh tone of voice. “Anyone we know?”�

 

Sirius shook his head and James breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m going to write to Moony and Wormtail,”� he told Sirius. 

 

Sirius looked up in surprise, momentarily forgetting to chew the piece of toast in his mouth. “About the Order? he asked, automatically knowing what his friend was getting at - he always knew, he and James always understood each other. “What makes you think they even want in?”�

 

“Remus will,”� insisted James firmly. “I don’t think he’s been able to find a decent job yet. Hell, maybe he can shack up with you, Padfoot, if it’s the lack of pay that bothers him.”� James shrugged, and Sirius echoed with a jerk of his own shoulders.

 

“Maybe.”�

 

“I know you don’t like staying in that flat by yourself,”� pressed James. “You never had to move out, you know.”�

 

Sirius scowled at him in response. “I know,”� he said simply. He'd hated leaving - he loved James's family - but he'd craved freedom, and once Uncle Alphard left him all that gold, he didn't feel right about living off the Potters anymore. “And Wormtail?”�

 

James shrugged. “I’m sure he’d do anything we do to be included.”� Peter was the one person James _wasn’t_ worried about trying to convince; he'd never pass up an opportunity to be involved, and James knew for a fact that Peter had been worried about staying in touch. “I want to fight this, Pads, and I want us to do it together. Keep your friends close...”�

 

“And your enemies closer,”� Sirius finished gravely.


	4. Two Owls

  
**In My Time of Dying**

* * *

Disclaimer: _Story title is a song originally recorded by Bob Dylan. The world, characters and canon information in this story belong to J. K. Rowling. Everything else belongs to me._

* * *

**C H A P T E R . F O U R**

The two weeks that had passed since graduation had been uneventful for Remus Lupin. He’d spent several days out, campaigning various places to let them know that he was available for hire. He’d dressed his best, which wasn’t very impressive - he didn’t have nice clothing at all; he kept ruining it on accident during his transformations, and his parents couldn’t afford to keep buying him new things. The result was patched clothing that had had the seams let out two or three times already as he grew.

 

Remus sighed. Nothing. Nobody wanted to hire a werewolf. Every time he filled out an application, his quill had hovered above the line, _Check ‘yes’ if you have a criminal history, dangerous condition, or are a Squib._ Criminal history, he could deal with. And even Squibs got lucky in finding work in the wizarding world. But it was the tiny print below the check box that always got him. _If yes, please explain:_

 

He sighed, rapping his knuckles on the worn tabletop in frustration. He was reduced to applying at private shops, having tried everywhere else. Yesterday he’d combed Diagon Alley, picking up applications for every store. The day before, he’d gone through Hogsmeade. He hardly had the heart to even fill them out; he’d already leafed through them. They all asked the question about his history and background.

 

Though he doubted finding a job in either town, he couldn't help but picture himself as an Igor, faithful assistant to a random shop owner, never amounting to anything more than that. He snorted and shoved the stack of applications away before resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands, defeated.

 

He felt he would be sitting here, filling out pointless applications, for so long that he'd have a thick layer of dust covering him before he was done. And then he _still_ probably wouldn't have a job.

 

A small, light brown owl suddenly swooped through the open window beside the table. Remus spared it a glance, welcoming the distraction from visions of his hunch-backed, dust-covered self.

 

“Hullo, Aristotle,”� he told the bird absently, stroking its feathery chest in greeting. “Got a letter for me, eh?”� This was James’s owl; he’d seen the bird many times. As he reached to untie the scroll attached to the bird’s leg, Aristotle hooted and bobbed up and down.

 

“Calm down,”� Remus remarked, slightly irritated as he struggled with the knot. Aristotle flapped his wings impatiently. “Bollocks, you’re _just_ like Prongs,”� he stated in a scandalized tone, and feeling almost as if he'd just come out of battle once he finally freed the letter. The handsome bird took off instantly without looking back.

 

Before he had a chance to open the note, however, his mother emerged from the hallway and looked towards the table where he sat. “Remus, I’m off to work,”� she announced, moving towards him to say goodbye.

 

“Have a nice day,”� he said dully, staring unseeingly at the note in his hand as she kissed his hair and then brushed it smooth with her fingers.

 

“Keep trying,”� she urged him with a nod towards the applications. Then she heaved an exhausted sigh, wishing for a day off; she adjusted the strap of her bag and checked that her robes were straight. “I'll see you tonight.”� 

 

“Bye,”� he mumbled, feeling his ears turn red with shame. He hated seeing his mother work so hard at her age to support him, her grown son still living at home. She'd even spoken to several people at the Ministry on his behalf, both in the Obliviator department (where she worked) and in all other areas. It had been useless; with the Ministry keeping tabs on all "creatures," as he was so often labelled, he couldn't even get a job on the Knight Bus.

 

As if to back up his feelings of uselessness, his father gave a loud snore from the bedroom. The man had given up _everything_ for Remus, in search of a cure. He still worked nights in the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, just as he always had. But for the past decade, he'd spent all of his spare time among well-known Potion Masters, begging for their help and trying to fund their research.

 

If possible, his father was even more exhausted than his mother. Remus couldn't help but wonder (and hope) if things were better for them when he wasn't around, when he was away at school and they didn't have to financially support him on top of everything else.

 

He idly fingered the rolled up parchment in his hand as he listened to his father's heavy snores. He had to do something, for he couldn't continue living in such shame. He knew his parents were somewhat alienated within the community, and all because of himself.

 

Frustrated, he ripped open the note and quickly scanned over the familiar handwriting.

_Moony,_

_How is the job hunt going? Not well? I didn’t think so._

_I haven’t got a job yet either, and neither does Sirius, if that makes you feel any better. We tried to apply at the Ministry, but after discovering that they use Dark Magic to capture suspects, I decided it wasn’t the job for us._

_Yes, the Aurors use Dark Magic, you read it right. Yes, it’s mental._

_I’ve found something else I’d like to do instead. If you’re interested, I’d love to have you doing it with us. I’ve already got Padfoot. I sent a letter to Peter as well. Owl me back if you want to, and we’ll meet somewhere to discuss._

_Always your friend,  
Prongs_

Remus folded the note and smirked. There was James, coming to the rescue just like he always did. He wasn’t sure what job his friend could possibly have in mind that would take a werewolf such as himself, but James hadn’t seemed concerned about it; he hadn’t mentioned it, at least. If anyone could get him into something, Remus reasoned, James could.

 

He grabbed the application on the top of the stack and flipped it over.

  
_Prongs,_ he scribbled. 

_Any time is fine to meet - just let me know._

_That's horrible about the Auror positions. I'm sorry it didn't work out. No luck finding work here. I've started applying in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade would be a rather embarrassing place to work, don't you think? Seeing all the old students... Oh well, I doubt I'll find a job there anyway._

_Bloody hell._

_Remus._   


He cursed Aristotle for taking off without a response, folded up the note and went outside. They lived in an old cabin in a clearing in the woods. He’d hated it growing up; it was in these woods that he’d sustained the bite from the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. Now was not the time for dwelling on that, however; he put two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle.

 

From somewhere high in the trees, a hoot was heard, and then a ruffling of feathers. The next thing he knew, a grey owl swooped towards him and landed gracefully on the porch railing.

 

“It goes to James,”� Remus told the bird, attaching the letter to its leg. 

 

He stood back and watched as it flew away, until he could no longer see it over the treetops. As he turned to go back inside, he realized he was suddenly anxious for James’s return owl with the date. He’d missed his friends in the two weeks since school had been out - as their small cabin didn’t have a fireplace, using the Floo to chat wasn’t an option for him. They’d promised to meet for sure every full moon of the month, but Remus had been hoping for something more. He’d like to spend time with them when he was in his _right_ mind as well. Whatever this job was, he was eager for it to start.

 

 

II.

Peter Pettigrew hated his life. He didn’t think anyone could blame him, if they knew what it was really like. Even as he came to this conclusion, a wad of mashed potatoes hit him in the face. His three year old brother shrieked in glee as Peter narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth together. Dinner was always like this at the Pettigrew household, and if Peter complained about it, he got the usual answer from his mother:

 

_He’s just a toddler, Peter._

 

Today, however, his mother didn’t give any excuse for his brother. She pursed her lips as she watched Peter clean his face off with the napkin. “When are you going to move out, Peter?”� she asked casually.

 

Peter stopped scrubbing his napkin over his cheek and looked across the dinner table in dismay. “What?”�

 

“Oh, you know...”� said Mrs Pettigrew, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re of age now, and finished with school. You haven’t even _tried_ to get a job yet...”�

 

Peter definitely would have given anything to trade lives with any one of his friends. All three of them had a place where they belonged. Even Sirius, whom he knew had been mistreated at home for how he chose to live his life. But all had worked out for Sirius - his home was now with the Potters. That was where he went for the holidays, that was where he went home for dinner, even after he got his own flat. Or even Remus, who’s family was poor, but happy and cheerful; they did their best, and they got by all right. And James was a given - James had always led a charmed life.

 

Peter hated his own family. His father had died thirteen years earlier, and since then his mother had had quite a few men over. That was how he’d ended up with a three year old brother. His mother didn’t even know who the father was. Little Ben was given his mother's maiden name instead of a father's last name. 

 

His brother got away with everything, too. Whenever Peter went home for the summer holidays, it was to find his bedroom in ruins from Ben playing in there all year without any discipline. Candy wrappers were strewn everywhere - months old chocolate had melted into his bedding and carpet. But it didn’t matter - he hated his room anyway.

 

His mother had decorated it and insisted it remained the way it was; it was _her_ house, after all, as she frequently reminded him. He had flowery curtains and flowery blankets on his bed. Even if he wasn’t embarrassed of his family, he still would never invite his friends over because he was embarrassed of his bedroom as well.

 

The one thing that kept him going was the account at Gringott’s he was set to inherit as soon as he reached eighteen. It was a trust that had been made for him when he was a child with his father’s funds. Though he was already of age, the Ministry had wanted to be sure he was out of Hogwarts first, and as his birthday was in the summer, had set the date for then. It was possible, even, that his father had chosen his eighteenth birthday in his will. His father was Muggleborn, after all, and eighteen was when Muggles were of age.

 

It was only a few weeks away now, thought Peter hungrily. The second week of August and then he’d be out of here. Needless to say, he was in no rush to look for a job right away with a large pile of gold waiting for him in the wizarding bank.

 

For the moment, however, he took a bite of green beans and shoved the thought of gold from his mind. “I’ve been looking,”� he insisted. “I’ve been taking _The Daily Prophet_ and checking their advertisements every day!”�

 

It was true; he’d been taking the paper to his bedroom and looking through the ads, but then he’d grow bored, toss it aside and pick up one of his comic books instead.

 

“And yet you’ve found nothing?”� his mother stated doubtfully. “I know the Ministry is hard pressed for employees right now, Peter, in every department!”�

 

Peter hung his head guiltily. There was no way around this little fact.

 

“I see,”� said Mrs Pettigrew softly. “You are the least ambitious boy I have ever met, Peter. I want you to go to your room and think about your laziness.”�

 

Peter glared at her for a moment, but she turned away, giving all her attention to Ben. He finally sighed and pushed his chair back forcefully, throwing his napkin down, leaving the dinner table and heading to his room. 

 

Once inside the flowery eyesore of a bedroom, he slammed the door and flopped heavily onto his bed, picking up one of his comic books. He wouldn’t think about so-called laziness even if it was the last thing to think about on earth, he told himself defiantly. He rifled through the pages of the comic to find where he’d left off last time.

 

A low hoot sounded abruptly, taking Peter by surprise so badly that he jumped and sent the comic book flying. There sat James’s owl, balancing on top of his desk. 

 

“Aristotle,”� Peter breathed, his heart hammering wildly. “You scared the everlasting shit out of me,”� he murmured, approaching the owl to take the message tied around his leg. “So Prongs wrote to me. Maybe I haven’t been forgotten after all,”� he said dryly, untying the letter.

 

Aristotle didn’t look amused at the sarcastic comments. He nipped Peter’s finger harshly, and the moment he was free of the note, he was gone out the window, taking extra care to slap Peter upside the face with a wing as he went.

 

Peter blinked rapidly, feeling foolish, for his eyes had begun to water slightly. “Even the owls treat me like rubbish around here,”� he muttered, unrolling the scroll and peering at it.

_Wormtail,_

_How is your summer? Little brother still being a pain in the arse? I bet you can’t wait until you have the gold to get out of there. Only a few more weeks, mate!_

_I’m writing to ask if you want to join us for a job. I can’t give the details in a letter, but its something I’ve already spoken to Sirius about, and I sent a letter inviting Remus as well. The Auror thing for the Ministry didn’t exactly work out, and I’ve come across something else._

_Let me know._

_Prongs._

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course, Sirius was the first to know. And of course, Remus was the second. As usual, he was last in line. Despite the bitterness, he was desperate to get out of the house and away from his family. He ripped off a piece of the parchment and wrote back that he was definitely interested.

 

“Bloody _stupid_ owl,”� he muttered, glaring out the window.

 

James’s owl never seemed to wait for anyone’s response. He couldn’t leave his room at the moment without getting in trouble; that meant his letter had to wait until morning to be sent out by the family owl. He placed the note on the windowsill for now and turned back to his flowery bed and comic book.

 

“I can’t _wait_ to get out of here,”� he muttered unhappily. Seeing his friends again, as jealous as he was of each of them, would definitely be a good thing right about now.


End file.
